


a fool and a throne

by Gildedstorm



Series: make a fury of me [7]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, in which rkorya has her first moment of self-doubt and anxiety at 24 and I am so envious, spoilers for the shadow of revan sith warrior quest, the first step on the path of stabbing vitiate in the face, when zealous loyalty fucks u up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedstorm/pseuds/Gildedstorm
Summary: "When he returns," the droids say, "he will silence the stars." This is worrying. They are desperate - this is more worrying."The Wrath must not know," they say, but she does, and now there is no going back.





	

“You are being watched,” Vowrawn says with his almost kind sincerity, and there is something – not his veiled intentions, the timeliness of his request to meet – that sinks in and chills her to the bone. Her activities, her meetings with Lana and Theron, everything they’ve fought for – could it all be undone like this?

No, that’s not quite what frightens her. It should be, perhaps. She likes Jakarro, can tolerate Theron and cares for Lana – they are stalwart allies, and she has gladly shed blood for them. But this is a personal threat, and it fits too closely with lingering doubts since Ilum and Makeb, doubts that have clung no matter what communications the Hand sent.

Rkorya is not used to _fear_. She stifles it as best as she can until she is out in the jungle and the watcher droids surround her, desperate in their attempts to stop her from understanding what this means. She is desperate in turn as she crushes them in her grip, puts her saber through those watchful masks. They all mercifully fall silent in the end, but it’s too late – she has heard too much, their words clawing her resolve to shreds.

_The Wrath must not know._

Even someone particularly dull and obedient would be able to work out what that meant, in time. While she has been obedient, been _loyal_ , she has never been wilfully blind. Now would be a bad time to start.

But would it be so hard, to close her eyes to this? It tempts her as little else has. To go along with her role, to not question, to obey the Emperor above all... it’s still possible. It would mean abandoning a worthy ally, but what is mere friendship compared to duty? The Emperor is... the _Emperor_. She had been raised to serve him, as devout as any Imperial who has learned history in his long, long shadow. To be his Wrath had been more than Rkorya had ever dreamt of.

Vowrawn would understand, if she returned and asked him to keep silent. He would understand – but he would pity her, and consider her not a friend but a tool. Perhaps it was foolish to ever think it would be different.

It is an act of mercy that she never has to choose. When she returns, Vowrawn is gone, and Servant One calmly searches the hideaway as if his very presence isn’t damning. The Hand alone doesn’t awe her, even if even one member’s presence echoes in the Force, a link that stretches far out of sight. Still, she allows him to call her to heel like a disobedient hound, as if they had given her any instruction in how to best serve the Emperor, hadn’t tagged her with surveillance droids like a criminal.

Her performance is one that her old master might have approved of – Rkorya bristles with indignant pride, covers for Vowrawn as smoothly as she can, pledges her loyalty once more. If Servant One doubts her, he hides it too well for her to judge. And through it all, the fear thrums in her veins.

She has never been so afraid of confronting the truth.

So the Emperor wants her blind to his intentions, a pawn in place to bring about... a silent galaxy. The death of stars. _How_ doesn’t matter, nor does the why of it. Madness is madness, no matter whose aim it is. Renouncing him should be _easy_. She had stood against Revan without wavering, and intends to do so again, however many times it takes. This should be no different.

And yet –

She can remember every detail of their meeting on Voss, the weight of his attention bearing down on her shoulders. It was as if a deity had recognized her by name. She had been but a shadow before his power, and still the Emperor had named her his Wrath.

If she continues to follow him, she will die. So, almost surely, will the Empire. To bow her head and obey right now would betray everyone she cares for. These are all certainties.

This must be weakness, then, to stay frozen in indecision long after she’s left the Hand behind. Her path has always been clear, her choices simple. To act one way was for the good of the Empire, the other to weaken it. Hesitation is foreign to her, and yet... she falters, long enough to concern her crew and conspirators both.

Duty has been an anchor, but it is also a chain. Maybe breaking it had always been inevitable, and she had just tried to hope otherwise for far too long.

“Get me a secure line to Vowrawn,” she tells Quinn at last. “I need to send a message.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Tell him... the Hand is hunting for him in the Rishi Maze. He should lay low for a while. Pass along my gratitude and tell him...

“I’ve been a fool.”


End file.
